The Shinō Academy, once called the Shinigami Academy, the largest educational institution in the Seireitei. On this auspicious day, the academy was scheduled to conduct its first field training in the World of the Living for the first-year Class 1 students of the 2071st graduating class.
"You look happy, Tōshirō."
"...Not really."
Among the twenty young people gathered on the school rooftop, one boy responded curtly to his friendly classmate's observation.
No, though he appeared more child than youth with his young features, he was known as one of the most promising shinigami-in-training, recognized as a rare genius in the academy's long history.
Standing aloof at the back of the group with his nose turned up was Hitsugaya Tōshirō. Holding the honor of being the youngest student ever admitted, he wore an even more displeased expression than usual this day, his brow deeply furrowed.
Of course, his neighboring friend could see right through this clumsy defensive facade hiding his inner turmoil of shame and joy.
The cause of his confusion was undoubtedly one of the three upperclassmen supervisors who had appeared on the rooftop with great fanfare.
"...It's really her."
"That's the legendary upperclassman..."
"She's so cute..."
"That girl took on a group of Menos Grande..."
The first-years stirred with excitement upon recognizing the small figure standing on the platform. A living legend unknown to none at the academy, a celebrity beyond compare. That unreachable existence was generously bestowing her heart-stirring, lovely smile upon everyone.
"First, let me introduce myself. I—I mean, I'm Hinamori Momo, a sixth-year student!"
Her bell-like, adorable voice drew unconscious cheers of 'Ooh...' from the crowd. Though still a student, she had already secured unprecedented joint admission to both the Gotei 13 and the elite Kidō Corps' First Division upon graduation, truly the rising star of her generation. Her heroic tale of single-handedly protecting her classmates and sixth-year supervisors from a group of Menos Grande during field training five years ago had spread even to the far reaches of Rukongai, along with her charming appearance.
"...Hmph. That top-spinning, 1,345-game losing streak Momo is getting too full of herself."
"She's really popular, isn't she? Your childhood friend."
"She's just a pain in the neck!"
Watching his acquaintance bask in everyone's praise stirred a confusing mix of embarrassment, irritation, and pride in Tōshirō. Particularly seeing her laugh so defensively under the heated gazes of the male students sparked an unpleasant frustration that settled in his chest.
The boy who kept turning his face away whenever their eyes met clearly harbored more than mere "pain in the neck" feelings for his childhood friend.
"Sixth-year Abarai Renji here. Don't do anything reckless during the exercises, got it?"
"Kira Izuru. Nice to meet you. Everyone form three-person groups as pre-assigned."
"So the three of us will be supervising your exercises!"
The names of the other two young men on the platform also sent tremors through the hearts of the aspiring young shinigami. One was the red-haired giant who had dominated the sword arts rankings for six straight years since enrollment; the other, a blonde, handsome honor student who had repeatedly wrestled the top academic position away from the famous Hinamori Momo herself.
Led by this luxurious trio of supervisors, far more than necessary for just twenty new students, the 2071st class's first World of the Living exercise began.
***
"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south!—Hadō #31: Shakkahō!"
Tōshirō's kidō flew between the buildings of the World of the Living.
Even this high-difficulty exercise of destroying targets with thin reishi posed no great challenge to his exceptional talent. Having hit his quota of targets, the boy caught his breath and glanced toward the adjacent building's rooftop.
"Abarai-kun, we have an injured student from fall damage in Group 3!"
"Got it! Leave it to me!"
"Please!"
In his line of sight was the girl busily giving instructions to her fellow supervisors. Her face, focused intently on watching over the first-years besides Tōshirō, showed none of her usual dreamy, carefree expression.
Of course, she was a supervisor. But seeing his childhood friend caring so earnestly for others' wellbeing for the first time somehow made Tōshirō feel slightly annoyed.
Shaking his head and sighing out his irritation, the boy approached her to report completing his quota.
"...Hey, Hinamori."
"Oh! Shiro-chan, are you finished?"
The moment he called out to her, the girl's tense expression melted into her usual age-appropriate smile. That familiar sight somehow made his heart skip, he hastily switched to a more formal demeanor.
"...Yes. Five large targets, three medium, one small. All destroyed, Hinamori... sixth-year."
"Wow, as expected of Shiro-cha, I mean... H-Hitsugaya first-year, well done! Please rest until your other team members finish."
"...Yes."
So awkward. The barrier of their positions rising between them prevented the casual interaction they'd once enjoyed, making him almost nostalgic for their uncomplicated Rukongai days.
"Shiro-chan."
But just as the dejected Tōshirō turned to head for the rest area, the gentle voice of his family-like childhood friend reached his ears.
"I only caught a glimpse, but seeing you hit that small target in one shot, you looked so cool."
"...!"
His childhood friend smiled bashfully. Feeling heat rush to his cheeks, Tōshirō snapped "Don't get carried away, idiot" and fled toward the rest area.
Unfair. What was that? Joy and humiliation coiled together in the boy's chest.
Hinamori Momo was an airhead. Sure, she maintained good enough grades to be selected as a supervisor, but she was naturally ditzy, somewhat pathetic, and frustratingly simple, always trying to treat Tōshirō like a little brother despite her own immaturity. On top of that, she seemed oblivious to being a young woman, surprisingly careless about relationships and male attention, and above all, reckless. Even their grandmother often worried and scolded her about it.
The prime example was her legendary heroic tale at the academy. When Tōshirō first heard the story after enrollment, he laughed it off as some mistake, but when he brought it up to her, her abnormal flustered reaction made him suspicious. Upon pressing her, she confessed easily. He'd been angry that she'd hidden such a life-threatening incident, but her apparent belief that she could actually keep it secret struck him as so absurd that his anger faded into exasperation.
Since then, Hinamori Momo had become someone dangerously unreliable whom he couldn't take his eyes off—someone he needed to protect.
And yet.
"Damn it, Hinamori always treating me like I'm immature..."
It was always like this. In crucial moments, she would always treat him like a child, and then, hiding some mysterious reserves of strength, display the reliability to match. She'd started attending the academy because she wanted to protect the locals as someone with spiritual power. Tōshirō had decided to become a shinigami because when he'd hurt their grandmother with his freezing spiritual pressure, that idiot had brought that woman shinigami, Matsumoto Rangiku, to their home for advice.
Hinamori Momo was someone who should be closest to him, yet at the most crucial moments, she would advance far ahead and solve everything on her own, that infuriating woman.
"KYAAAAAAAH!"
Suddenly, a woman's scream pierced Tōshirō's troubled thoughts.
Wondering what could be wrong so late in the exercise, the boy looked up and found his gaze captured by what he saw.
A massive hole floating in the air.
The dense reishi oozing from it chilled Tōshirō's spine. And from the deep, seemingly endless darkness within, a monster emerged.
The first time he'd seen, felt, the sworn enemy and symbol of terror for all shinigami.
"Ah... ah..."
The overwhelming presence made Tōshirō involuntarily step back.
Somewhere in his heart, he'd thought it was all fairy tales. Monsters existed only in picture books, creatures of imagination. Or even if they existed, someone born with spiritual power strong enough to hurt others, someone praised as a genius, could easily defeat them.
But.
"OOOOOOOOOOH..."
Looking up at the massive monster towering before him, Tōshirō found himself muttering "Impossible."
What is this thing? Should something like this exist in this world?
A massive azure form piercing the heavens. A sinister white mask. An aberration resembling a cloaked figure gazed down at the young people below with hollow red eyes.
"Hey, that thing..."
"No way..."
"Ah... ah..."
"It can't be... a Menos Grande—"
If even the powerful Tōshirō felt this way, what of the other immature first-years? Some collapsed with weakened legs.
This was a Hollow. This was the enemy that full-fledged shinigami had to fight. An opponent that half-trained students like them could never defeat, not if the world turned upside down.
"Bakudō #21: Sekienton"
But just as he was about to give up on his life, a red smoke screen rose before the frozen Tōshirō.
Snapping back to reality at this large-scale phenomenon, the boy saw a female academy uniform fluttering before his eyes.
Shinō Academy, Class of 2066, Sixth Year, Class 1—
Valedictorian: Hinamori Momo.
The strongest shinigami-in-training of her generation, praised as the finest of her era, stood like a guardian deity before Tōshirō and the other nineteen students with her small but mighty back.
"Supervisor's orders! All first-years immediately evacuate to the senkaimon behind you! I will ensure everyone returns safely!
All personnel, begin evacuation!"
"...!"
As if blown away by her shout and spiritual pressure, the dazed first-years scattered like startled birds. Their minds were blank. Their actions, as if controlled by something, matched their consciousness a beat later, and they all realized their fear had been swept away by her commanding voice.
She had stood up. A mere student had risen to fight a Menos Grande, a monster that claimed the lives of even Gotei 13 shinigami like dust.
Witnessing this, only one emotion welled up in their hearts, pure, beautiful, and most heart-stirring: admiration.
How... how incredibly cool!
And she hadn't only moved the first-years.
"Damn it! How about it, Kira?!"
"Yeah, I'm terrified! My hands and feet won't stop shaking!"
"Heh, that's right! But you know—"
"Right—"
Cutting through the smoke screen, two male students launched themselves at the emerging Menos Grande.
"Don't think it'll be the same as last time, you monster!"
The attackers were the sixth-years Abarai and Kira. Their strikes were sharp and powerful, incredibly severing both arms of the Menos Grande targeting Hinamori in single slashes.
The Menos Grande's ear-splitting scream echoed around them. And she would never waste the time they had earned.
"Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man—
Carve twin lotuses in the wall of blue flame! In the abyss of great fire, await in the distant heavens!"
In that moment, the fleeing students couldn't help but turn back, all their attention drawn to the kidō about to be unleashed.
Unlike the familiar mid-level fire-type hadō like Shakkahō or Sōkatsui, this was an unfamiliar latter half of an incantation. If their memory served, this was one of the legends that she, Hinamori Momo, had carved into Shinō Academy history—
Hadō #73: Sōren Sōkatsui
With an explosive surge of spiritual pressure, massive brilliant blue flames erupted from the girl's palms. Flying with perfect accuracy toward the enemy's torso, the highest-numbered advanced kidō in academy history, Hinamori's pride, consumed the Menos Grande with a tremendous roar.
The sixth-years fighting valiantly against an upper-class Hollow that even seated officers would struggle with. Witnessing this, the rookie shinigami-in-training felt their eyes well up with emotion.
Could it be possible? Really, just like that legend, could mere students actually defeat a Menos Grande?
But.
"Gah?!"
"What?!"
Suddenly, two tentacles emerged from the burning spiritual flames, ensnaring Abarai and Kira who had landed nearby. In the shock of the sudden event, everyone froze for a moment.
A third tentacle, covered in saw-like scales, broke through the flames. Moving too fast for the eye to follow, it struck toward one of the first-years who had stopped in their tracks, the one with the highest spiritual pressure, that small figure named—
"SHIRO-CHAAAAAN!"
Drip.
"Eh...?"
Something warm fell on his cheek. He reflexively wiped it, the liquid was red. Where had it come from? While thinking such carefree thoughts, the boy called Hitsugaya Tōshirō looked up and saw—
"Ugh... urgh! R-run... away!"
"...Hina... mori...?"
His precious childhood friend, with a blade-like tentacle slashing down through her right shoulder.
"It's... okay! I'll protect... you—AAH?!"
"Hinamori?!"
The stopped tentacle's blade sought more blood, slicing deeper into the girl's shoulder. Her desperate resistance with her shallow sword was futile as the disgusting sound of tearing flesh continued, her childhood friend's body splitting in two before the stupefied Tōshirō's eyes.
What is this?
"Agh... urgh! Run away! Shiro-cha... n!"
"S-stop it... please stop!"
With earth-shaking steps, the Menos Grande, its surface burned by the kidō, approached with its massive form.
Why is this happening?
"Please! So... please!"
"...!"
Hinamori's screams echoed in his head. Finally, belatedly, Tōshirō understood his situation.
It was the same.
Just like when she'd protected him from neighborhood bullies, just like when she'd gotten hurt shielding him, here he was being protected by her again. Despite always being ditzy and clumsy, at times like these she would go far ahead where he couldn't follow.
Frustrating. Why are you always like this? He was, he was just, he had simply wanted to, for all the things she'd shown him, taught him, that woman—
There, Tōshirō had an out-of-place thought.
Frustrating, was that really the emotion at the root of all this? His own powerlessness was humiliating and shameful and pathetic, but more than that, much more, a stronger feeling was overflowing from the depths of his heart.
He hated it. More than his wounded pride, he hated seeing her injured, suffering, desperately enduring the pain.
He hated seeing the woman most important to him getting hurt.
Then what should he be doing right now?
That's obvious.
"...Stop showing off, damn it!"
He stood up. Something hot surged through his body. As that uncontrollable elation consumed his fear and reason, Tōshirō lunged at the approaching Hollow in a world where everything else seemed frozen.
"OOOOOOOOOOH!"
"?!?"
In that moment, Tōshirō had a vision of a dragon in the endless snowy plain he saw every night in his dreams—
"UOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAH!"
Before he knew it, his shallow sword, charged with spiritual pressure unlike anything he'd ever felt, was thrust deep into the Menos Grande's mask.
"GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAH!"
The monster's mask cracked.
Writhing in agony while spraying blood and releasing an ear-crushing scream, the Menos Grande thrashed. Tōshirō instinctively took a defensive stance and saw the jet-black hole that had opened in the sky behind his opponent.
Before he knew it, the threat had vanished into the darkness, leaving behind only silent stillness among the remaining group.
"Hinamori."
"...Ah."
That silence was the perfect stage for one young voice to ring out.
The silver-haired boy standing there couldn't spare a moment to catch his ragged breath. With all his remaining strength, he declared to his childhood friend's dumbfounded face as she sat collapsed behind him:
"The one who protects you, is me!"